


Hike up that skirt (get naughty)

by FancifulRivers



Category: Death Note
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, L in a Skirt, M/M, cross dressing, handjobs, unapologetic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5908936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"You know I like it when you lose control..."</i>
</p>
<p>L likes wearing skirts.</p>
<p>Light likes seeing him in them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hike up that skirt (get naughty)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Death Note.
> 
> Title comes from Hollywood Undead "Pigskin." This is what happens when you forget to turn autoplay off on youtube and get hit with random ideas. :P

"Light, it is awkward when you stare at me like that," L complains, tugging on the edge of his new skirt. Light turns his head away, swallowing hard and feeling color wash across his face.

Everyone else has gone home. It's just Light and the detective and a pair of handcuffs that seem to get shorter and shorter every time Light looks at them. Not  _really_ , of course, but he can't help crowding Ryuzaki, his breath disturbing the black fluff crowning the man's head. When Ryuzaki doesn't slouch, Light has discovered he's actually taller. But he  _always_ slouches- his posture is  _atrocious_ \- and truth be told, Light...

Kind of likes that.

He likes a lot more about the detective than he thought he would. He likes the loose sprawl of limbs across his comforter, the way the man's tongue curls around a particularly toothsome sweet, the way fine-boned fingers pluck up a fork. L's eyes are dark smudged and fathomless and when Light peers into them for too long, it feels like he's drowning.

And he particularly likes times like now, when L's fussing over a zipper and tying up strings and in general, looking more delectable than a piece of strawberry cake in a frothy pink skirt with ruffles.

It's not a sexual thing for L. Light's asked, ears burning and voice hoarse. It's just one more piece of the puzzle. They're comfortable, L's explained. More comfortable than jeans anyway, and easier to go barefoot when he's not stepping on the cuffs of his pants.

It  _is_ something sexual for Light, and he paces back and forth, listening to the handcuff chain jingle as Ryuzaki smooths the fabric over narrow hips, admiring the fit in the floor-length mirror bolted to the closet door.

"What do you think, Light?" L questions. Light wouldn't think Ryuzaki's customary long-sleeved white shirt would go with a skirt that looks like it belongs in Sayu's closet, but it does, and his mouth goes dry.

"Very pretty," he acknowledges hoarsely. L smiles, sitting down on the bed in a flounce of lace. "May I?" Light can't complete the question, but L knows what it is. Light asks it every night.

"Of course, Light," Ryuzaki says very solemnly. Light takes two strides, then his mouth is crashing down on L's, tongues fumbling together. It's familiar, but feels new all over again, as he presses Ryuzaki back against the bed, fingers threading through the detective's hair and cradling the fragile curve of his skull. He can feel L's hands fisting in the back of his shirt, bunching up the fabric and exposing the base of his spine.

Light blesses the fact that nobody else watches the camera footage from this room as he straddles L, grinding his hips into L's be-ruffled groin. L moans, the sound raw and needy and electrifying. 

"Fuck," Light whispers, yanking up L's shirt and uncovering the pallid planes of his chest. L watches him in heavy-lidded languor, the tip of his tongue resting on his bottom lip. 

"More," L demands, wiggling slightly under Light's weight. Light rocks back on his heels, careful as he tugs the soft material of L's skirt up, bunching it around his waist. He's not wearing underwear and his cock bobs free as soon as Light releases it. Light's fingers wrap around it and L hisses in appreciation. A moment later, he feels L's delicate fingers at his waistband, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding the zipper down. 

Ryuzaki's hands are always ice cold, but his cock is burning hot, and Light groans at the feel of slender fingers circling his erection.

"If you muss up my skirt, I will be very vexed," L warns in a quick intake of breath. "It's new-"

"I know, I know," Light mutters. It's awkward to manage, but he flips a sheet over L's waist, hiding the fluffy fabric. L fumbles under the pillow for a moment, hands leaving Light's groin, before retrieving the bottle of lube. It smells like strawberries, and Light almost laughs at the blush that tints L's cheeks when he uncaps the bottle and just sniffs it for one long moment.

"You can't eat it, Ryuzaki," Light says dryly.

"I know that, Light," L replies, his voice stiff, as the bottle dangles between thumb and forefinger. He drizzles some on Light's fingers, letting Light perform the same courtesy. The lubricant is cold on Light's fingertips and he watches Ryuzaki freeze as he wraps his now-slick hand back around the man's prick.

It is hot and slick and messy and Light can't decide what he likes more, feeling his own completion spiral closer and closer, or watching the world's greatest detective come undone under his hands. His cum spills everywhere, across Ryuzaki's thighs and soaking into the fabric of the sheet, pooling against the base of L's now deflating cock in a puddle of L's own exertions.

"You clean up," L requests, chest heaving, and Light is more than happy to comply.

"I really like that skirt, you know," he says, retrieving one of several towels they keep handy by the bed for similar purposes. "It suits you."

"Thank you," L says, and half-smiles.

 


End file.
